


Ghosting

by Karlina101



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Dead!Leonard, Friendship, Hurt! Jim, StarTrekau, guardian spirit! McCoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 03:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19348987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karlina101/pseuds/Karlina101
Summary: Average civilian Jim is dying from a stab wound and Guardian Angel McCoy has a chance to save him by becoming a full time Ghost stuck in limbo.A scene from a potential fic called Chances.





	Ghosting

“No!” Len screeched and banged on the wall. He fell to his knees beside Jim and frantically scanned over the injury, his hands hovering over where he knew - he knew - pressure needed to be applied. He glared at the pale kid gaping down at the gushing blood.

“Don’t just stand there, what are you doing get over here and help her!” He tried to press over the pouring wound - only for his fingers to phase through Jim's torso; his hands were no good here.

“Oh god, oh god there’s so much blood.” The kid croaked. Len barely noticed the kid fumbling to call 911.

Len knew what had to be done. He had been a doctor - a surgeon - and here he was still as helpless as a civilian. Why? Just because he was dead?

He gritted his teeth; no. Not this time.

Len ripped off the headset and threw it into a useless white corner, then bolted for the door. He raced out of the simulation room and hurtled down the hall, shoving people out of his path. He skidded around a corner, then slammed into the double door of the Player Room.

He punched out the code to Jim's nook. The doors slid open, revealing Jim's pod.

Len panted as he strode to the glass dome, drinking in the sight of Jim - immortal, stable, not-stabbed-Jim - laying perfectly fine and breathing evenly.

Len pressed his hands to the glass dome over Jim's pod. He laid still as he always did, but Len could have sworn in that moment he looked paler then he should ever be.

Len's breath shuddered and he glared down at his stupid blonde freckles.

“You don’t get to die on me. You don’t get to drive me insane with your stupid optimism and naïve dreams of a better world and - and get me to believe you, just for you to die and prove me right. You’re going to live and get old and actually do the shit I never had the guts to do,” Len's voice choked as his eyes filled up.

“You’re going to get every one of those damn virtues and go to paradise and tell God he’s a fucking ass and this system is stupid and his game is a piece of shit.” He choked in a breath. “And then you’re going to tell him how we deserve a better chance, and about all the awesome Players that got screwed, and you’re going to get him to listen because that’s,” his breath hitched. “That’s what you do. You stubborn jackass.”

He pressed away from the glass and scrubbed roughly at his eyes.

He couldn’t cry, not here, not ever, because that’s not what surgeons did.

Jim would probably tell him it was ok to cry over this. That it was okay to show that he was upset, that no one would give him grief over him, well, grieving.

Len took a steadying breath. He took in the details of Jim's immortal face; the ungelled spiky blond hair, the relaxed eyebrows, the blue eyes that McCoy had never truly seen face to face. He was peaceful here, even when his spirit was in a body that was shutting down and almost ready to spit Jim back to square one.

Yes, Jim would tell him it would be alright. He'd say it was ok to cry.

Len smirked a bit at Jim's relaxed face.

Too bad Len would never give him the chance to tell him in person.

McCoy barged back Into the hall and raced down hallway after hallway to the Ghost Room. He ripped off the caution tape, pulled the sliding doors open and marched inside.

He strode past the icy and forgotten pods filled with forgotten souls; people forever stuck in limbo, with no one to pull them out. He didn't look at the pods that once filled him with unease every time he looked at them; instead he went down row after row, scanning over them until - there.

There was one that was un-iced.

Len didn’t stop to think about what he was doing as he popped open the lid. He didn’t think about the consequences as he slid into place and strapped in. He didn’t even consider the complete stupidity of Ghosting as he grabbed the headpiece and slid the visor over his head to cover his eyes.

Because at that moment Leonard McCoy didn’t matter. The lives and sacrifices of Leonard, Janice, Ryan, Shivek, John and all the other people he’d once been and painstakingly remembered just didn’t matter anymore.

He punched at the buttons over his head. Coordinates, minute, role.

They were dead; Leonard was dead.

The visor turned on and slid the coordinates across his vision. It scanned down his face with blue lazors, and he heard the pod hiss shut.

They were dead.

He barely winced as the tubed sunk into his neck.

Leonard was dead.

Activate? Slid across the screen.

Jim wasn’t.

“Activate.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed that, please leave a kudos, and comment anything you may have thought about the scene mean or nice. I'm not sure I'll actually write Chances, but if anyone is interested please say so. It's basically my take on the afterlife with high tech guardian angels, reincarnation, with the basic thought that life is a video game. 
> 
> If anyone is confused with what happened with McCoy in this scene, feel free to comment or message me for answers!
> 
> Thanks for reading, live long and prosper friends!


End file.
